


a game

by TribeOfTheForsaken



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Extremely Underage, F/M, Uncle/Niece Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:22:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26900572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TribeOfTheForsaken/pseuds/TribeOfTheForsaken
Summary: “We'll play a game," Qrow says. "You can’t tell Tai, though.”Ruby blinks. Glances up at him again, and the flush is heavier now, spreading down to the wire-tight twinge in his neck. “Why not?”“It’s a game your mom and I used to play."
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Ruby Rose
Comments: 3
Kudos: 37





	a game

**Author's Note:**

> nothing explicit actually happens here, but the implications are _heavy_
> 
> ❤️️ maknae ❤️️

Uncle Qrow is sick often.

That is what Taiyang tells her. That he is just sick, that he drank bad water, that he will be okay when he wakes up later. So Ruby always waits for him to wake up, sometimes wondering if he is still sick when his skin is clammy and he complains that the light is too bright. He needs someone to watch over him, Taiyang sometimes says to her, he doesn’t like being alone.

Ruby does not like being alone, either. Taiyang is always there, and it is extremely rare that he is not. It is rare that he is not there when Qrow is. It is even rarer that she is not with Yang, either. Ruby is not entirely sure where they went, only that they are gone, whisked off to some unknown land of fluorescent lights and glasslike silence.

But that is okay - Uncle Qrow is here with her, and he is not asleep, and she is not alone. He is sick, though, that much she recognizes. He tries to hide it, but he smells so strongly, and her eyes begin to water, but she does not let them fall. She knows it will startle him. She is strong, as Taiyang always tells her and her sister, she is strong and she will endure it if it means it will help her uncle feel better.

Except she does not like the shadows that loom nearby, pushed back only by the blue-tinted flicker of the movie that begins to play. She hears him but does not see him, stumbling as he always does, saying something under his breath that she does not understand but can smell all the same. He is sick, so sick, always sick and stumbling and she wonders if there will ever be a time when he is healthy and happy and whole.

He always seems sad, Ruby thinks, he’s always so sad. But he does not deserve to be sad, not when he is so strong and holds himself together when it seems like he cannot. She falls readily into the hands that pull her up onto his lap, just as he always does when it is movie night and Yang is already asleep. Taiyang always whisks her off when he arrives, though, and Ruby sometimes wonders why.

Qrow’s hands roam, clumsy, heavy where they settle against her hips, squeeze before they fall still. He stops muttering sad things under his breath, so it must make him happy, she realizes, like how it makes her happy when Taiyang holds her late at night and tells her that the scary shadows in her dreams cannot reach her. She does not like the smell that lingers, sharp and rancid and distinctly raw in the same way the underside of a scab is raw, but she does like that he is happy, and that is what matters.

The movie is not all that intriguing. They hardly ever are when Taiyang is not there to pick them for her. She starts to squirm, endlessly impatient, the novelty of the snuggles long since gone. Qrow’s fingers twitch where they rest against her, largely imperceptible, but they do not move her, do not allow her to go just yet.

Some of the special effects catch her attention - blinding lights, the glimmer of it competing with that of starlight reflected from the shattered moon, endless tells of wonder with every technicolor flash there is. She is finally still, enraptured, settling long enough to appreciate the scene. There is that twitch in Qrow’s fingers again, the quake in them as if he is holding something far too fragile, and they move lower.

It is only after the boring talk starts up again that she feels the quickened rise and fall of Qrow’s chest against her back. He is holding on too tightly, and despite the thumbs that trace circles against her thighs, it is far too uncomfortable. She starts to squirm once more in his grasp. Oddly enough, she presses against something hard, and he lets out a small hiss.

“Uncle Qrow?”

He does not answer immediately. His grip falters, and he shifts under her, the gravelly slur of his voice muffled against the crown of her head, “What’s wrong, pipsqueak?”

“I’m bored,” Ruby tells him.

He lets out what might be a laugh, breathed out faintly against her hair, and does not answer beyond that. Impatiently, she starts to squirm again, wondering what it is that presses against her, and he makes an odd noise.

She stops when he says to her, sounding oddly strained with the thin breaths he takes, “We’ll play a game, then.”

That is enough to catch her attention. She glances up at him over her shoulder and sees how the flickering glow of the movie shines bright against his skin. His cheeks are flushed, a pale red like that of his eyes, blown out and glassy like they always are when he is sick and tired and sad. 

“A game?”

“Yeah.” His grip tightens, and he pulls her closer, cants his hips upwards so that the odd thing she feels is pressed hard against her. She squirms anew, a discontented whine in her throat, stopping only when he says, “You can’t tell Tai, though.”

She blinks. Glances up at him again, and the flush is heavier now, spreading down to the wire-tight twinge in his neck. “Why not?”

“It’s a game your mom and I used to play,” Qrow says, the words rough and breathless, “so it’s top-secret stuff, kiddo. Can I trust you with that?”

The prospect of being trusted with something so dear is remarkably exhilarating. Even though she does not know the rules to the game or the means to win, she still nods eagerly; all of the games Qrow and Taiyang play with her are fun and make her happy, and briefly, she wonders if it will make Qrow happy, too.

Qrow seems pleased with the answer, at least; his hands trail lower again, one settling by her thigh and nudging it aside, the other playing loosely with the hem of her shorts.

Qrow nuzzles against the crown of her head, his rasp barely audible over the movie as it starts to pick up again, “Just keep watching the movie, okay?”

She still does not know the rules to the game. She does not know why his fingers begin to delve beneath her waistband or why he holds her thighs open so wide, but she does know that she trusts Qrow.

“Okay.”


End file.
